


Poppy Boy

by sowrongitswhite (FYWC)



Category: The Maccabees
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 02:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FYWC/pseuds/sowrongitswhite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you fall in love with people on public transport.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poppy Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song Poppy Bird by Bromheads Jacket

Orlando spied him on the tube he used to take to visit his grandparents on the other side of London. He was wearing a bright red poppy on the lapel of his coat, for whatever reason, but it suited him so well. His beauty shone through the silence as the commuters tried to not make eye contact, or let alone talk to each other. Orlando tried not to stare too obviously, but it was so hard. The boy was too much of an eyecatcher and Orlando thought he’d probably never seen such a beautiful thing, except for in movies and up on billboards. He’d never seen such a beautiful thing in all his years of travelling these trains.  
He visited his grandparents regularly, but he’d never seen the boy in any of the trains he’d ever taken. His shiny brown hair was tucked behind his ears and his big blue eyes pierced right through his glasses. The book he was reading was of an interesting nature; a bright, sixties-style font and funny faces on the front cover were all Orlando could make out from his seat across the aisle, though.

It was just a few more stops to Walthamstow, where he had to get off, and Orlando wondered what Poppy Boy’s name was. Surely it wasn’t anything ordinary, like John or Tom or Chris or Mark, like all the boys from school. It had to be something outstanding, something that fit his captivating appearance. He’d be disappointed if that wasn’t the case.

Orlando had always been a bit difficult to deal with, it was the OCD speaking whenever he behaved oddly. Sometimes he’d do silly little things like turning the keys in the door five times before he went to bed. In the past he’d gotten into some silly situations with girls from school making silly accusations. Orlando liked to draw, and he liked drawing people especially, so at one point or another, he’d drawn a group of girls in the schoolyard who’d somehow gotten to know about that. They’d found it creepy and told the headmaster, who didn’t do much, because he knew about Orlando’s disorder. Still, it had been uncomfortable for the boy and he’d stopped drawing in school altogether.  
By now, he was through that and he knew what to do to not get himself into trouble.

Poppy Boy was still reading, and Orlando wished he could just walk over, ask him his name and tell him he was so pretty and that he’d been watching him on the train. But that would be creepy, and boys didn’t say that to other boys.

 

It was just a few more stops to Walthamstow and still, Orlando wondered what Poppy Boy’s name was and if he’d ever meet him again.

He couldn’t believe his luck ‘cause now he was at Walthamstow and the boy was leaving the train also. He rushed out of the train, Orlando right behind him, following him onto the platform, up the stairs and through the barriers. He got a bit too close and the boy looked behind, so Orlando took control of himself and walked further behind. He was such a failure, he thought. He couldn’t even follow people around properly. He should have joined the boy scouts as a kid.

They were out of the station and out on the street now, walking past the top of the road where Orlando’s grandparents lived. There was no one else around on this November night. It sure was dark and yes, it sure was cold and since they were alone, Orlando plucked up his courage and started to make his approach.  
The boy surely could hear his footsteps and started walking faster, maybe scared, because he didn’t know Orlando was the least dangerous person on earth. The boy turned at the corner and started to run, Orlando following with quick steps.  
“Now don’t be dumb, don’t be dumb, please don’t be dumb,” Orlando whispered to himself, and the boy slowed down, panting, Orlando’s breath in his neck.  
He was catching up now, grabbing the boy’s arm and said, “Mate, is this the book that you left?”

Poppy Boy turned around, eyes wide open. Orlando just froze with the blue eyes staring at him in surprise, book still in his hand, fingers clutching it hard.  
The boy looked down on the book with a laugh of relief.  
“Aw yeah, that’s mine! God, you scared the hell outta me, mate!,” he said, holding out his hand in wait for the book.  
“Oh, oh…yeah, there you go,” Orlando murmured, only now taking a closer look at the cover. It was some Beatles biography and Orlando smiled.  
“Did you read it, too?,” Poppy Boy asked, catching the shorter boy’s smile.  
“I…no. Is it any good?”  
“It’s brilliant!,” the boy beamed, then changed the subject abruptly. “Did you follow me all the way from the tube?”  
Orlando shifted from one foot to the other awkwardly. “Well, you left it on your seat… and I had to get off anyway, I’m visiting my grandparents.”  
Poppy Boy was still smiling. “Me too, man! The poppy’s for my gramps, he’s a veteran,” he said and Orlando remembered the date.  
11/11, Remembrance Day.  
“What’s your name?,” Poppy Boy asked. “I’m Felix.”  
Felix. The Fortunate. It fit so well.  
“I’m Orlando.”  
Felix looked at the book in his hand. “Well, I’ve just finished this, d’you wanna read it, maybe?,” he offered, blue eyes piercing through his thick-framed glasses.  
“But I’m a stranger!,” Orlando said, though of course, he’d like to read whatever made Felix so happy.  
“You’re not! I know your name, so you’re not a complete stranger. And I’m a very trusting person,” Felix laughed. “I recommend it, so go on, keep it,” he said, rummaging around for a pen and writing a number on the first page of the book before giving it to Orlando.  
“Just….call me when you’ve finished, alright? I insist.”  
Orlando smiled. “Okay.”  
“I really need to hurry now, I told my grandparents I’d be there by six. Call me, yeah?,” he winked, saluting with two fingers and turning around before Orlando could even open his mouth.  
“Yeah…bye,” he said to Poppy Boy’s retreating back, still smiling.


End file.
